Author's note: Hello to everyone on ! For some reason ffnet isn't sending me notifications of reviews anymore, although it still sends me follows, which is weird. So I honestly thought no one had reviewed this story at all until I happened to actually look at it directly lol. I was shocked to see over 40 reviews! Thank you for all the love, I really appreciate it!
The time has come.
Manric tried to find peace, tried to meditate silently. There was no point in anxiety, there was nothing he could do at this juncture, he was not to speak a word unless Imotekh directly addressed him.
But the anxiety kept bubbling up as they waited for their turn to address Imotekh the Stormlord. Other foreign dignitaries from greater Dynasties were going before him, some of them treating Imotekh almost as an equal but most fawning on him. Manric winced a little internally at some of it, particularly from the responses he was reading from Imotekh. He was NOT amused by some of it, not at all.
How am I doing this? This isn't normal. Manric was realizing, more and more, that his ability to read Necron emotions wasn't normal. Imotekh was not making a single sign of ANY emotion but Manric could still tell when he was disgusted, when he was amused and when he was just irritated. I think I was more of a psycher than I ever realized. But I could only still be one if my soul is still here. Something very mysterious had happened during his biotransference.
Then it was their turn and Manric braced himself.
"Phaeron Imotekh, I greet you from the Uhnashret dynasty," Rahkaak began, her hands clasped in front of her. "Alas, we have suffered greatly during the Great Sleep and wish to request entry to the Sautekh as a Vassal Dynasty." Manric thought he sensed a bit of interest from Imotekh.
"What enemies do you bring, and what resources do you offer?" Imotekh asked which Manric knew was actually just a formal, prescribed response to this kind of offer.
"I regret to say that the greatest enemy we may bring is the Imperium of Man. As for the resources we offer to you, that is caught up in the first, for we unknowingly accepted the fealty of a colony of humans thrown out of time. They have in their possession a fully functional STC." Rahkaak paused. "May I tell you the story of how this occurred?"
"You may," Imotekh replied and Manric could tell he was definitely interested now. But then, he had no idea what was coming.
"I awoke in my tomb to great tragedy. Our crownworld had been penetrated by drukhari raiders, and all of my subjects destroyed. The only survivors were my personal guard and crypteks from the Great Tomb. Above us, the world had been colonized by humans, flung far by a vicious warp storm and preyed upon by the drukhari for nourishment."
"We attempted to find relief from our other coreworlds, but they had all also been struck with tragedy. One had fallen to the Flayer virus, another vanished. We believe it may have been transposed in time, and perhaps will one day return to us. Our third coreworld is in a bizarre state… also likely afflicted by the great warp storm, the sun it circles is strangely aged and the tomb is sealed. The coreworld AI will not respond to any commands, so we wait upon the cutting teams." Everyone knew how long that would take. Even by Necron standards, breaking into a tomb by simple force took a while. "Of our fringeworlds, only one survived and it was the tiniest of all, with many awakening failures. It barely doubled our numbers."
"So in the end, we feared we did not have the strength to defeat the drukhari and take our revenge upon them. That would be utterly intolerable, allowing them to be unpunished for their defilement, so we made contact with the humans and offered them entry into the Uhnashret Dynasty as a Serf world. This is a rank that is over slave, but beneath commoner."
"I am aware of the meaning of serf in human societies," Imotekh said and Manric was sure he'd conquered more than a few human worlds. "We have never given them that status, but it is acceptable. Continue." Rahkaak nodded.
"We provided them the resources they needed and together, we crushed the drukhari, seized their ships and destroyed the base they used for raiding. In that action, we recovered Ahmakeph of Sautekh, who we have returned to his nemesor, Zahndrekh." Imotekh surely knew about that. "He enlightened us to the state of the galaxy, and that our humans were surely out of time, and how much danger we were in. That the human empire will send hundreds of ships, and billions of humans, to secure the STC."
"Oh yes, they most certainly will. And why should we save you from this fate?" Imotekh said, coming right to the point. Rahkaak clasped her hands before her, a gesture that to Manric spoke of great anxiety.
"The resources we offer to Sautekh are first, the human colony of Hope. The knowledge of the STC is from a culture nearly the equal of the ancient necrontyr, and with its aide they are embarking upon a plan of industrialization that will reach full Terran technology in two hundred years," Rahkaak said before pausing a moment. She knew Imotekh might not like the next part. "We fully intend to meld in our own technology, so when we are done they will be capable of producing the finest war machines in the galaxy." A bit of a boast, perhaps, but Manric thought it was warranted. What would a Knight armor be like when they incorporated Necron technology into it? Could they start building that insane piece of overkill, Titans? What would THAT be like, equipped with Necron technology? "However, that will take time and for now, we bring you something more."
"I beg your forgiveness, and the forgiveness of my ancestors. But I could not come before you with a mere six thousand Necrons, and expect you to accept me. STC had the plans for human biotransference, so we lit the fires once again." Manric could sense the shock of the other dignitaries, everyone in the chamber, even Imotekh himself. Rahkaak gestured to him and he obediently stepped forward before giving the Stormlord a deep bow. "This is the fruits of our efforts. In orbit, there are fifty thousand pwi-Necrons." Pwi was a suffix that meant "small" and it was the term they had finally settled upon. "This is their commander, Overlord Manric. If you accept us, they will be yours to do with as you will, and there will be more. I hope they will find favor in your sight," Rahkaak finished and clasped her hands together again. There was a long, ghastly silence.
He is going to refuse us. We're going to be banned from Mandragora. Manric could sense Imotekh's rage. He hated every bit of this, and was definitely going to deny them outright. Manric resigned himself to it. We'll have to hurry the industrialization. Would gaining fifty years even be worth it though?
"Phaeron Rahkaak, you have broken every law of our kind. Lighting the fires of biotransference, feeding lesser races into those flames, and giving them the bodies of our dead," Imotekh said and Manric winced internally as he felt Rahkaak's despair. She saw it too. "But I will give you a chance." What?! "We will see if these warriors you bring can change my mind. I warn you, it will not be an easy task." He was shocked Imotekh was even giving them that chance! "Consult with Overlord Tomehk. And as for you…" Burning green eyes turned to Manric and he felt flensed by that harsh regard. "Prepare yourself. I will test you personally." Manric bowed deeply, saying nothing. But internally, he was exulting.
He wasn't sure why Imotekh was giving them this chance, but he would seize it with both hands.
To say Orikan was aghast at what had been revealed today would be an understatement.
They lit the fires of biotransference?! True, he could see WHY they had done it, but there was no greater taboo among their kind. And the humans had already had plans for it? That apprentice was a human? That truly gave Orikan pause. He'd never had any use for the lesser races, unlike that insufferable asshole Trazyn, but he might have to revise his opinion of the humans slightly. There had to be more to them than he'd thought, if they could produce someone with such an able mind.
As the Stormlord took the last few delegates, Orikan evaluated the feelings of the crowd. It wasn't hard to pick up the excited and scandalized conversations, as well as the interstitial messages flying around. Overall, Orikan thought the Sautekh nobles were more excited at the prospect of gladiatorial combat than anything. Some of them were scandalized at what Rahkaak had done, but a surprising majority did not really care. Orikan wasn't sure if he should be amazed, or appalled at their devotion to their own pleasures. All they want is a reprieve from this boring mummery. Well, he could certainly understand THAT.
"This is the offer I must entertain? THIS?" Imotekh asked and Orikan remained prudently silent. The Stormlord's head turned and burning green eyes fixed him with a stare. "And you think I will change my mind?" Orikan had absolutely no idea. The future seemed to be getting hazier, if anything. It was actually becoming concerning.
"Events will lead you to the correct decision, Phaeron. It is only necessary that you allow these events to proceed," Orikan said confidently. That much, he was sure of.
"Get out of my sight." Orikan left the Stormlord to brood, certain he would resign himself to this soon. Imotekh might hate even entertaining the idea of taking these humans into his army, but he would soon start to take enjoyment from the gladiatorial events. Convocations could always have them, but rarely this early and this significant. Orikan normally took little interest in gladiatorial events, but even he was intrigued.
He didn't need to read the future to know that this would be a sight to behold.